


Angels Dining at the Ritz

by Not_Dans_Secret_Account



Series: Ineffable Husbands One-Shots [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But only a little, Crowley’s snake tongue, Fluff, Home of phobia, M/M, My First AO3 Post, just enough to drive the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_Dans_Secret_Account/pseuds/Not_Dans_Secret_Account
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley dine at the Ritz in 1970 and are mistaken as a couple. This effects them more than they realise.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025797
Kudos: 47





	Angels Dining at the Ritz

Crowley trotted swiftly ahead of Aziraphale in order to open the door for his angel. Aziraphale typically walked in front and opened all the doors for himself, but Crowley had a strange urge to be courteous on this night. 

They had had a six o’clock reservation at the Ritz. The two hadn't been to a restaurant together in months, Aziraphale just now realizing that he may have, in fact, forgotten how Crowley conducts himself when they went out. Maybe his opening the door wasn't as unusual as the angel thought it to be. 

He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he savoured the dry air in the restaurant. It had been raining outside as they entered, not that either the demon nor the angel had been wet. Crowley had a way of making sure his angel never was rained upon. 

Maybe, it's because I kept him dry in Eden. Aziraphale thought, smiling to himself. 

The memory of their first meeting never failed to brighten his day, and his facial expression, for that matter. So, he approached the man awaiting to seat them with a kind smile, which the man then returned. 

“Reservation for two. Crowley," stated the demon. 

With that, the man’s expression dropped. He eyed the two men up and down as if he was trying to read them, see past their surfaces. 

The man spoke with a menacing tone, “I'm sorry, gentlemen, but we don't serve your lot here.”

“Excuse me?" asked the angel quizzically. 

Crowley, understanding immediately the man’s misconception of the two, responded, “Oh, no, sir. We're not— No, no, no. I’m not— We don't— ...no.”

“I see," answered the well-dressed man, retrieving menus from the podium before him. "Right this way, then.”

As the waiter seated them, he grimaced once more then turned to leave. The table they sat at was a table that overlooked the whole restaurant, yet the chairs were faced away, as if the chairs themselves didn't want to have to see the nonsense the humans must be up to. 

This just so happened to be the same table they got last time, and the time before, and the time before. Aziraphale wrote it off as a coincidence with a quick “miracles-happen-every-day” eye roll. Crowley, not so much. He had noticed how much quieter this table had been in their previous ventures to The Ritz, and how much more his angel talked without all the background noise. Not that he would admit that. At least, not to his face. 

But, this time, Aziraphale seemed preoccupied. Not talking much, and giving an uncalled for amount of attention to the wine sloshing around in his glass. Glancing over at Crowley maybe one too many times. Then, the angel stopped looking at Crowley entirely, absorbing himself in his bouilli— bolliou— fish stew. 

Crowley seized the fork in front of him and knocked it against his almost empty wine glass, startling Aziraphale. 

“What's wrong, Angel?" Crowley asked, voice laced with more than too much concern for a demon. 

“Nothing," Aziraphale stated, unconvincingly and far too quickly, “Nothing at all. Why would you even ask that? What a silly question, Crowley. Why must you always ask such silly questions?” 

The angel huffed out a laugh, that, in and of itself, almost stating just what he thought, I hope he bought that.

Crowley had not, in fact, ‘bought that’. 

“I'm serious, Angel. You better watch yourself, or you might just go off making me,” Crowley paused, unsure what will happen if he says his next words, demons weren't meant to feel, much less, say things like this, but he never was much of a rule follower, was he, “Worried.”

The angel’s expression softened at this, taking the liberty to even form into as much as a smirk. 

“Oh," he said, simply. 

But, his mind didn’t stop at the point his mouth had. Overlapping voices went off like a firework in his mind. As if he had an angel and a devil on either shoulder. Funnily enough, in his mind, both were Crowley. 

Aziraphale suddenly felt the room heating up and a blush creeping up his face. In an attempt to keep Crowley from noticing, moving quickly and without thought, he miracled his face back to normal pigmentation. 

Crowley, upon seeing Aziraphale perform a miracle, glanced around, looking for what he could have possibly miracled. 

“What the heaven was that?" 

“Nothing. Nothing. Wasn't me. Must have been a different angel, or demon, or supernatural entity,” Aziraphale said, just as, if not, more nervous than he had before. 

Crowley, once again, picked up on this, but this time he knew that his previous statement was the reason the angel was acting so strangely, and felt his own blush creep into his cheeks. Crowley didn’t fancy himself a very prideful being, but he wasn't shy, to say the least. He did not attempt to hide this blush in any way. 

“Crowley, dear, are you alright? D’you need a water?" Aziraphale asked, not as afraid to hide his concern as the other as worry and putting others before themselves was encouraged of angels. 

“No," Crowley’s voice cracked, causing him to internally face-palm, clear his throat, and try again, “No. I'm alright." 

Not even the angel could miss the nervousness so blatantly displayed in the face and actions of the demon. Aziraphale now realized there was no need for his previous miracle as his blush returned, but he made no move to calm or stop it. 

Both men sat in silence, faces and bodies burning. Tension so strong, Aziraphale would need his flaming sword back in order to cut it. 

Not ten minutes later, Crowley asked the waiter for the bill, deciding for the both of them that they were ready to leave this godforsaken place. Crowley paid for both of them before the angel could even move to make an argument otherwise. 

Crowley walked quickly out and down the street, only looking back to make sure the angel was keeping up. Once Crowley had passed the turn to get to Aziraphale’s bookshop, he slowed, walking side-by-side with the angel. 

“Crowley, where are we going?”

“Scenic route.”

Were the only words exchanged almost the whole walk. Until, suddenly, Crowley turned down an unfamiliar alleyway. They talked as they sauntered vaguely to the left. 

“We should really find a new place to go out to," Crowley decided to break the silence. 

“Why’s that?” Aziraphale questioned, unable to pinpoint the demon’s intentions. 

Crowley suddenly slammed Aziraphale into the nearest brick wall, hands pinned beside his head. 

“They don't serve our lot there,” Crowley answered lowly, letting his snake tongue slide out and flick Aziraphale’s ear. 

Crowley leaned back to search Azirapahle’s eyes for a no. Which he did not find. 

Crowley leaned into his angel and, finally, kissed him. Aziraphale kissed back lovingly, longingly. Maybe too much lust for an angel, maybe too much love for a demon, but in this moment, for the first time ever, neither cared. The only thing they cared about in this alleyway (that was most certainly not at all on the way to the bookshop) was an angel and a demon. A demon and an angel. In love.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!! This is my first post so yea... I will post more one-shots, as well. Criticisms are welcome (My pronouns are they/them just btw)


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